


And I Owe It All To You

by starkboi



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Gift Fic, Happy Ending, Humor, M/M, Meet-Cute, POV Steve Rogers, Stony Loves Steve 2019, dance marathon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-18 17:39:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19339369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkboi/pseuds/starkboi
Summary: Steve volunteers to participate in a dance marathon for charity. He's got a final project looming over his head and needs a break from reality, it's there that he gets playfully competitive with a certain snarky brown haired boy from MIT.





	And I Owe It All To You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [muchmoremajestic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/muchmoremajestic/gifts).



> this was so fulfilling to write, thank you to my giftee for all the incredible prompts.
> 
> i hope you enjoy!
> 
> title is from the time of my life by bill medley.

 

Steve scribbles his name onto the crowded sign-up sheet, rolling his eyes at the ‘Mike Rotch’ two lines above his. His first lesson at college; graduating high school doesn’t always equal maturity. Putting the annoying frat dudes aside, Steve is excited for the dance marathon.

It promises that all its proceeds go to the local children’s hospital and as a former sick kid himself, he can’t really say no to that. Not to mention the added benefit of avoiding spending another Saturday inside his apartment, dwelling on the deadline of his final art project hanging over his head like a bomb waiting to go off.

Who knows, the all-night distraction may very well just lead to a breakthrough in the ten-foot wall art block in his mind, that’s keeping him from finding the perfect pose to complete his portfolio. There’s nothing like a night of dancing to get your brain to shake itself loose.

Steve’s not opposed to any creative, out of the box methods at this point.

 

* * *

 

The rest of the week goes by fast enough, and Steve’s already getting ready to head out to the auditorium where he’ll be spending the next eight hours of his life dancing. There’s both excitement and nervous energy bubbling up inside of his stomach, some of his friends from class are going to be there so he’s not worried about being alone, but there’s something about the whole dance aspect that gets his heart pumping faster.

“I really thought you were joking about this,” Natasha snarks from her slouched position on the couch.

Steve doesn’t reward that with a reply, instead focusing on double knotting the laces on his shoes, and then shrugging his jacket over his shoulders. He pats his pockets, mentally checking off that he’s not forgetting anything of importance and then steps out towards the front door.

“Are you going to lay there all night?” Steve stops to ask, glancing back at Natasha, who hasn’t moved an inch in hours.

He gets a muffled grunt in reply, before the sounds of her moving catch his ears and Natasha’s head pops up over the back of the couch, “Have fun out there Johnny, don’t leave Baby in the corner.”

Steve flicks her off over his shoulder, shutting the door quickly so he only has to hear her sing the first few lines of the Time of My Life, loudly and impressively off key.

 

* * *

 

Steve gets through the check in process surprisingly quick based on the amount of people packed into the auditorium. He checks his jacket with the energetic blonde-haired girl at the front, and then slaps his sticker number and name tag on the front of his t-shirt.

They went all out with the decorations, bright red and white balloons strewn across the floor and streamers draped on every accessible place they could manage. Steve has severely vivid flashbacks to every high school dance he attended and he pauses to shake off how weird it makes him feel for a moment, before reminding himself that braces and hair styled with way too much gel isn’t his reality anymore, thankfully.

There’s tables with snacks and drinks along the farthest wall and only a five minute wait until the announcer climbs up onto the small stage, briefly thanking them all for coming and donating to the charity, before eagerly counting down from ten to begin the start of the night.

Everyone bursts into cheers as the first song begins blaring from the speakers, and Steve internally laughs at the song choice, because of course it’s Bowie. But then he spots a group of his friends in the crowd, and heads over to them, accepting their excited greetings as they all begin to dance together.

 

* * *

 

Steve doesn’t notice him until they’re already past the halfway mark into the marathon. The once large crowd has thinned out considerably, but the moderators are doing their best at keeping the energy high. He only catches a few glances at first, mere glimpses between all of the shifting bodies, and Steve’s feet seem to make up their mind before his brain does, as he finds himself moving closer, intrigued.

The song changes just as Steve’s found his way through the crowd and earns a better view of his subject; a brunette boy, eyes closed, small smile on his face that’s turned up to the moving lights above them as they shimmer over the crowd below. He has one hand in his hair as his feet jump rhythmically on the floor, lost in the music, enjoying himself more than anyone else around him, and Steve’s barely remembering to move his own feet now as he blinks slowly, completely entranced.

It’s only then that the boy’s eyes open and meet Steve’s instantly.

Steve’s closer than he meant to be and his eyes drop down searching for a nametag on the white shirt covered chest, but there’s not one to be found. He frowns, frustrated, just as the boy moves toward him, closing the distance, seemingly interested in Steve’s now obvious gawking. His smirk grows as he eyes Steve up and down, fluidly moving around Steve, hands out in invitation, tempting Steve to follow his lead.

Steve’s own movements feel harsh and clumsy in comparison to his at first, but the song’s beat picks up and they get into a good flow, dancing closely, not quite touching but nearly. Steve’s breathless and there’s a sheen of sweat over everyone in the room, but his new partner doesn’t seem to mind.

Up close like this, Steve notices more about him, the huge brown eyes, glittering with competitive light in the dark room, and how Steve is just the slightest bit taller than him, so he has to look up to meet Steve’s eyes. He spins around then, showing off before swaying his hips side to side, and Steve can’t help but throw his head back with a laugh, before doing a big spin and suave move of his own in retaliation.

The song ends much too soon, and Steve bows his head, stepping away, accepting defeat while offering a nod and smile toward his competitor. “Alright, you win.” Steve says, voice picking up in volume to be heard over the start of the next song.

“Was there really any doubt?” he replies, one eyebrow cocked playfully, stepping up to Steve again, to grab his hand and pull him back into their shared space. “You got a name, footloose?”

Steve chuckles, shaking his head at the ridiculous nickname, pointing down to his own nametag on his chest.

“Oh, well hey there Steve,” he says, before lifting his shirt slightly and showing the stickered tag reading ‘Tony’ placed on his jeans over his hip.

“Care for another dance, Tony?” Steve asks forwardly, and they begin to move together again, settling into their earlier groove now that they’ve successfully sussed each other out. The crowd seems to give them space of their own, or maybe Steve’s just so absolutely focused on not tripping over his own feet to impress Tony now, that everything around them dims down to a muted hum in the background.

 “I leave you alone for ten minutes and you’ve already replaced me, Stark?” Tony’s soft smile turns away from Steve and towards the man now standing next to them.

“Rhodey!” Tony shouts excitedly, “It’s not my fault you left me out here all by lonesome, who can blame me for keeping myself entertained?” Tony turns back toward Steve smiling warmly “I got myself a Steve now,” Tony adds, and Steve feels his back straighten on instinct, making himself taller and turning his chin up ever so slightly at this Rhodey.

Rhodey barely gives Steve a glance, assessing the scene, before he shakes his head disbelievingly at Tony’s antics, “Take your water Tony, I’m not going to watch you dehydrate anymore tonight,” he says pointedly, and then turns towards Steve, “He’s your problem now Steve, don’t let him dance himself to death no matter how cool he thinks that’ll sound as an epitaph on his tombstone.”

Rhodey leaves them both at that, and Tony hydrates as he was tasked to do, before jumping back into their previous rhythm, although this time with his arms wrapped loosely around Steve’s neck.

“Where were we?” Tony asks much too quietly, but their new proximity grants Steve the touch of their chests together, practically sharing breaths, that he hears every word perfectly.

Steve’s hands naturally drop down to Tony’s waist and he gently holds him there, “You were about to answer all of my questions about Tony Stark.”

Tony grins, “Hit me with them, I’m full of answers if I get to ask some questions of my own.”

“Hmm, alright, I’ll bite, what are you studying?” Steve asks.

“Oh, please do, and electrical engineering,” Tony answers smugly, “and you?”

“Art,” Steve shoots back just as fast. “Why electrical engineering, robots do it for you?”

Tony snorts, “That’s actually ridiculously accurate that it’s funny.”

“Really?” Steve smiles excitedly, “Have you made any yet?”

Tony actually seems to shy away at that, biting his lip and looking away, “Maybe, it’s a work in progress.”

It’s the first time Steve’s seen him look sheepish and his brain absolutely eats it up, taking in the glossy look in his eyes and the coloring on his cheeks.

“I’d be honored to meet your work in progress one of these days, I swear it.” Steve says, trying to catch Tony’s eye again, wanting him to catch on to his sincerity.

“Yeah alright alright, enough about me, what’s Mr. Picasso working on right now?” Tony asks, deflecting the attention back onto Steve.

Steve groans as he remembers his art final and the portfolio on anatomy that’s haunting him back at his apartment.

“Coming up with unique poses that translate onto paper sounds easier than it actually is,” Steve says, “I only have one more sketch to finish and it’s been breaking my brain for weeks.”

“Well that’s all I have to hear,” Tony starts, before letting his arms drop from around Steve’s neck as he begins posing, contorting his arms and legs all different ways, the funniest vogueing Steve’s ever seen someone attempt and he can’t help the bubble of laughter that escapes his chest, doubling over as the sound only makes Tony get more dramatic with it.

“ _Please,_ I think I’ve got enough now, thank you Tony,” Steve says, holding back his chuckling as a few people around them glance at Tony skeptically.

Tony stops, smiling indulgently at Steve, “I’ll be here anytime you need me.”

Steve’s mind short circuits a little at that, the implications behind it, his cheeks ache from the amount of smiling so much the past few hours, and his feet are going to be absolutely dead tomorrow, but he’s so thankful to be here right now.

As the night begins winding down, the songs mostly stay slow, even the attendees with the highest energy begin to tire, Steve and Tony mostly sway together at this point. Conversation on hold to enjoy the music and each other’s presence. At least until Steve’s stomach growls loudly enough that Tony catches it and looks sarcastically up at him.

“I think your stomach just told me that it was going to eat me.”

If the ground could swallow him whole right now, Steve would be eternally grateful. The snack table has been mostly picked over, and food that’s been sitting out for this long doesn’t sound the least bit appetizing, so Steve makes a split-second decision.

“You want to get out of here?”

“But what about the children, Steve?”

Steve shakes his head at Tony, “Six and half hours is just as good as eight to me right now, unless you’d really like to stay here by yourself and miss out on perfect, hot and salty french fries.”

Tony grabs onto Steve’s collar and drags them both out of the auditorium.

 

* * *

 

Steve barely had time to grab his jacket from the coat check, before Tony was proclaiming that he’d die right this second if Steve didn’t hurry up.

They don’t slow down until Steve makes it to where he parked his motorcycle, and Tony stops mid-sentence about all the ways he could die from how hungry he is.

“This is yours?” Tony asks, eyes wide as he takes in Steve’s shiny black motorcycle that he’s incredibly proud of.

“Yeah, it’s all mine,” Steve says, also pausing to appreciate the bike before handing Tony a helmet and climbing on.

“I think I’m dead.”

“Get on Tony, the fries are waiting.”

Tony straddles the motorcycle quickly after that, buckling the helmet into place, and wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist. Steve exaggerates the rev of the engine for Tony’s sake and takes them off in the direction of his favorite 24-hour diner.

Tony’s silent for most of the trip, and at one point Steve shouts over at him, “You awake back there?”

He feels Tony lay his head against his shoulder, arms tightening further around him, “I’m not sure, it feels like a dream.”

Steve can’t stop the goofy smile from growing on his face.

 

* * *

 

They take their fries to go, and decide to walk down by the lake nearby, it’s nearly two in the morning, and the full exhaustion of the night has yet to hit Steve. His mind is completely focused on the hot food his stomach is gratefully indulging in and the way Tony’s eyes seem to never stop glowing even with the darkened night sky above them.

Steve silently reflects back on the night, the way fate had made it so that one curious glance from across a room led to the most fun he’s had all year at MIT, possibly even longer if he’s being completely honest. His program is intense but so rewarding that he’s not done much but focus on trying to be perfect at everything all this time.

They hit the end of the trail eventually, and they pause to stare out at the dark water, shimmering in front of them.

Steve bites his lip, holding back a bucket load of things he wants to say, only letting his brain entertain the idea of reaching out and holding Tony in his arms again for a moment, and maybe, if allowed that is, the idea of kissing Tony, right here. He shakes it out after those few moments though, insecurity barging its way in.

Until Tony himself is reaching a hand out to intertwine his fingers with Steve’s and looking up at him with the same brown eyes that have quite literally rocked Steve’s entire world tonight.

“Point me the other way if I’m heading in the wrong direction here, Steve,” Tony whispers, raising ever so slightly on his tip-toes to put their faces on the same level, lips so close to brushing, but he pauses just before. His soft breath hits Steve’s cheek and Steve decides then to kick that insecurity from seconds ago out of his mind as he connects Tony’s lips to his own.

And everything is perfect.

 

* * *

 

Steve drops Tony off at his dorm, despite the very convincing protests about saving gas and the dangers of driving while sleep deprived, Steve’s mind is running and his fingers twitching with the urge to draw that he insists he has to head home.

But not before thoroughly kissing Tony Stark goodnight on his front step. He’s not a heathen.

Their lips leave with a loud _smack_ and Steve frowns with the effort to not immediately go back for more, as Tony pants with the same effort to hold back. “I’ll see you soon, Steve Rogers,” Tony says when he’s caught his breath, “I remember a promise to show off my robot kid to you.”

“I can hardly wait,” Steve replies, leaving one last chaste kiss on Tony’s lips, before stepping away and watching Tony stumble inside his building, the suaveness seems to have been kissed out of him, and Steve doesn’t try to stop this smile, before turning away and heading back home.

 

* * *

 

He walks in to his pitch black apartment, Natasha sprawled out on the couch in a similar position from all those hours ago, and Steve is not one bit surprised as he throws a blanket around her, before softly shutting the door to his bedroom shut.

His portfolio is exactly where he left it, strewn across his drawing table, abandoned in a fit of frustration, and he toes off his shoes, scrunching his nose at the ache in the balls of his feet, but he’s got an idea in mind and a project to finish now.

Steve begins sketching, and he doesn’t stop until the early morning light begins to shine in through his window, casting a perfect shadow across his page as he’s finishing, happy with the final pose he chose.  Steve closes his eyes, and remembers the way Tony had looked amongst all those people, one hand in his hair, that soft smile on his face, and the glinting lights above him making him the prettiest thing Steve has ever seen.

The time of his life indeed.

 

**Author's Note:**

> the stonylovessteve fic exchange has proven for a second year to be my favorite thing ever.
> 
> can you tell i listened to only 80's music while writing this?
> 
> i appreciate any and all feedback!


End file.
